


The Oath

by Apparentlynotreallyfinnish



Series: Prompted ficlets [27]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Emotional, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 04:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20736506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish/pseuds/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish
Summary: Part of a series of prompted ficlets. Prompt: "Rhett and Link finding the lost Blood Oath."





	The Oath

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't write this one as rhinky but I'm not stopping anyone from seeing it like that. :)

Rhett was holding the haphazardly taped up envelope in his hand like it was a holy relic. He rushed inside throwing his backpack on the floor as he hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the first knife that caught his eye. With a trembling hand he slowly cut the envelope open and tilted it to slide out the contents. A worn wallet dropped on the counter. Rhett’s fingers softly brushed the soft leather. His breath caught and he had to swallow down a sob.

When he’d gotten the message, he’d ignored it. Lots of peoples sent him messages on Instagram. Sometimes he read them; most often than not, he didn’t have the time. Thankfully, this person had been persistent and when Rhett got the fifth message he actually read it.

_I bought an old wallet from a thrift shop. It had a piece of paper inside. I think it might be your blood oath._

Rhett had read the message, sighed and smiled a little. They both got messages like this once in a while. Enthusiastic fans who thought some old paper might be the long gone blood oath. People had even faked oaths to show them. Rhett didn’t think they actually meant any harm; they just wanted to be noticed. Link took it harder than Rhett did. Decades had passed and Link still felt bad about losing his wallet and the only remaining oath with it.

But then Rhett had seen the pictures. It was a timeworn piece of paper; yellowed with writing that was almost entirely worn off. The words were barely legible but Rhett didn’t need to read them to know he was looking at the real deal. The little brown stains at the bottom of the paper told him everything he needed to know. 

The finder of the wallet was more than happy to send it to Rhett. He wouldn’t even accept his pleas to pay a finder’s fee or at least reimburse him for the postage.

_It’s yours. It belongs to you guys. Knowing it’s going home is enough for me._

Rhett cried that night. He cried for the little boys standing in a field all those years ago, holding a dirty shard of glass, amping each other up for the cut. He cried for two best friends in a small town with big dreams. He cried for the years after; school, girlfriends, college, wives, children, mind-numbing jobs, the Thursday nights, the commercials, the music, the videos, the cross-country move, the company, the team they build, their own little empire. He cried for a dream realized and for the friendship that had carried through all through their lives. 

Rhett saw the little boys with bleeding palms in his mind as if it had happened yesterday and more than anything, he wanted to go back in time, gather them in his arms and tell them their dreams eventually came true.

—

The episode was the old silly game show format they hadn’t done in ages. Link had been confused about the change in schedule but it had been explained to him with plausible lies and half-truths. 

Rhett was nervous. He laughed too loud and messed up his lines too many times. Link whispered his concern during a break and Rhett waved him off blaming a sleepless night. Link continued to look at him with worry threaded in his eyebrows but the filming went on.

Rhett’s palms were sweating as they got to the last round. Link had to get this question right to win the prize. Rhett gave all the hints he could and to his infinite relief Link actually got the point that brought him victory.

“Here,” Rhett squeaked as he thrust the mystery box into Link’s hands. Link frowned a little.

“I thought I can choose between this and the dollar?” he said with a smirk at the camera.

“You’ll want this,” Rhett just said. He couldn’t sit still anymore. His leg was bouncing and his heart was almost painfully thumping against his rib cage. Link’s eyebrow hitched up, but then he shrugged and opened the box.

“What’s this then?” he asked and picked up the wallet showing it to the camera.

Rhett wrung his hands and drank in the expression of his best friend as the realization slowly hit him. Link stared at the wallet and then at Rhett. His mouth had opened to a perfect little o-shape. He said nothing; he just turned the wallet over and over in his hands.

“Look inside,” Rhett prompted, never before as impatient as he was now. Link’s eyes shot to him again and he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“No,” Link whispered staring at Rhett.

“Just look,” Rhett pleaded voice as shaky as his hands. He dragged his palms against his thighs; it was simultaneously a desperate way to dry them and a lackluster way to self-soothe.

Link’s hands were visibly trembling as he opened the wallet and pulled out the thin slip of paper. His fingers worked slowly and meticulously as he unfolded it and smoothed it out against the table.

Rhett’s chest swelled and his vision blurred by a film of tears. He wanted to say something. He wanted to explain to Link. There was a speech; things he’d wanted to say, things he wanted Link to know as if he already didn’t. 

No words came out. 

Rhett was transfixed by the rigid form of his life-long best friend. Link sat there, motionless, staring at the faint words and the overlapping stains pressed onto the page all those years ago.

They still had the cameras to remember; they had content to think about. The beasts would love this. 

“Link,” Rhett murmured trying to get Link’s attention. 

What he didn’t know was that Link had been swaying on a precipice; he’d been teetering on the edge of ruin and his name spoken by the soft timbre of his partner pushed him over the cliff. 

Link crumbled. He fell towards Rhett who barely had time to gather him in his arms.

Link clung to him, hands bunched into fists, the back of Rhett’s shirt gathered into them in a pursuit for something tactile to hold on. Rhett pulled him in, held him close and buried his face into the crook of his neck. 

Link smelled like peppermint and coffee. He smelled like long hours and laughter. He smelled like harsh words and sincere apologies. 

In Rhett’s arms was a little boy turned adult but never grown up.

Link’s tears stained Rhett’s shirt and drenched his shoulder. He didn’t care. He was working on his own little creek of salt water near Link’s collarbone.

“We did it,” Link whimpered against the wet fabric. Rhett nodded vigorously refusing to back down even an inch. He held on still, keeping Link in a tight embrace, hoping that his body pressed against his could convey all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t.

“We made an oath. How could we not?” Rhett whispered, voice wet with tears. Link let out a snotty chuckle and pulled Rhett even closer.

Neither remembered the cameras anymore. The crew was quiet. There was a reverence for the moment. Everyone knew they were privileged to witness this and no one would dare to disrupt the scene unfolding before their eyes.

It took a while for them to separate. They moved slowly apart, like they had to fight the pull of each other’s bodies. Rhett’s thumbs rose to Link’s face and brushed away the lingering tears. Link smiled and did the same to him. They sat still for a beat, holding each other’s faces, their foreheads pressed together. 

Always almost too close for comfort. That was how they worked. The blood on the paper had dried decades ago but the blood in their veins still moved by hearts beating in the same rhythm. Always awesome. Always creating.

Always together.


End file.
